


Sacrifice and Illusion

by Candamira, Nia_Kantorka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Frotting, M/M, Veela!Draco, humour (attempt at), stoned!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3985888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candamira/pseuds/Candamira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nia_Kantorka/pseuds/Nia_Kantorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One minute he’d been alone, the next Draco Malfoy stood before him, bare chested, in jeans and...with wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice and Illusion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwao/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sacrifice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687540) by [Iwao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwao/pseuds/Iwao). 



> Happy birthday, Amor! You're awesome. Thank you for beta-reading our fics with such patience and dedication, no matter what real life puts on your plate. We appreciate that very much!!! It wasn’t easy to pick the right picture of yours to write a story about (they are all so gorgeous). We managed after much brainstorming and are happy to give you something back. We hope you’ll enjoy what we've written based on [Sacrifice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3687540). 
> 
> Picture and story are based on this prompt for the [do_me_veela](http://do-me-veela.livejournal.com/) 2015 Valentine fest:  
> It's a Muggle legend that the 'Winged Ones' steal newborns and replace them with babies of their own kind. To appease the 'Wicked Whites' and protect their children, the Muggles of Wiltshire bring a human sacrifice every year. When Veela!Prince Draco recognises Harry Potter fettered to the altar stone, he thinks that this time it's him who has to be the Saviour. 
> 
> Thanks to [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren3210/pseuds/lauren3210) and [This_Bloody_Cat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Bloody_Cat/pseuds/This_Bloody_Cat) for their feedback and help! All remaining mistakes are ours.  
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

**_Sacrifice and Illusion_ **

The Wicked Whites are clever. They come on cloudy days, when you won't see them against the sky. So watch out for their shadows. Huge and dark and winged, they herald an unspeakable terror. They are wild creatures, predators. Nothing can stop them. No wall, no prayer. 

In the old days, they came once a year, to steal our newborns and replace them with their own kind. That's why they know us so well. They know our rhythm of life, they know we are most vulnerable when we're in love. One look, and you'll fall for them. So hide, and don't look up, because the sky is a dangerous place.

~~v~~

"Country air is healthy. I can certainly see that."

Harry tried to reach the rope, which trapped his wrists, with his teeth again. To no avail. He was still too dazed to coordinate his movements. He only managed to tie himself up tighter.

"There are fewer crimes in the countryside. My arse." 

He still had trouble remembering how he ended up here. Bound to a stake and slumped on an altar in a stone circle. 

"Nobody will know you in a little non-magical village. Yeah, and now I’m some sort of Muggle sacrifice. Congratulations."

Harry knew he’d had a coffee at the local café and Maura the keeper had pushed him to try a piece of apple tart. It’d been too late to escape when the drug took hold of him. The last thing he remembered was Maura telling him about her being sorry and him being an elect sacrifice for some winged? wicked? whites?...he didn’t know.

"When did ever in my life come something good from women who wear too much rose perfume and collect doilies?"

Harry shook his fuzzy head, concentrated on summoning wandless magic and...nothing.

"Fuck. What drug did they use? I’m off my face."

~~v~~

_Sacrifice Day._ By Veela the almighty, how Draco detested that day. It was _boring_ , and he had no idea why everybody else was so excited about it. Stiff robes, scratchy embroideries, and – he ripped the silver band with the star-shaped diamond on the front from his head – he had to wear his _crown_. He rubbed the pressure sore on his forehead and sighed.

Anyhow, the worst part of the day was over. Father's speech, the renewal of their life guards' oath of allegiance, the traditional and never changing formation flight of the warriors. Calling it _annoying_ would be putting it mildly. Now everybody else was free to plunder the buffet, while he had the dubious honour of accepting the Muggle sacrifice. The old rites were so _barbaric_. Draco shuddered. All that _blood_. He'd seen enough blood for the rest of his life when Potter had hit him with _Sectumsempra_. No need for more, thank you very much.

But Father's words reverberated in his mind. "The truce hasn't been violated for over a century now. Yet, you can never rely on a promise forever. There may come times when the Veela will have to fight again. Prove your aptitude!" 

_Prove your aptitude!_ Draco grimaced and peeled his body out of the formal robes. If he had to do it, he would at least do it his way. After a glance at the warm though cloudy day outside, he put on a pair of jeans over his pants, but nothing else. There was nothing like the wind caressing his naked skin while flying. 

With a heavy heart he picked up the ritual dagger from the table and weighed it in his right hand. The diamonds on the hilt caught a stray ray of sunlight and rainbows danced over the walls of Draco's room. His eyes brushed his crown. Why were the tools of torture always the most beautiful? Sighing, he closed the clasp of the holster around his right thigh and shoved the dagger back into the sheath. 

He climbed onto the window sill. His room high up in the manor's tower allowed a far sight over the countryside of Wiltshire, and in the east the dark silhouette of the old stone circle stood stark against the green and grey of the day.

Draco spread his wings and dived into the air outside. The wind rushed by and cooled his cheeks, blew through his well-groomed hair and tousled away the stiffness which made his scalp ache. For a moment, he pretended it was a day like any other. The open sky above his head, a solid updraught beneath his wings – sometimes he wished he wasn't a duty-loaded prince, but could spend his days chasing his shadow and playing with the wind.

Too soon he reached his destination. Withered stones surrounded a crude block hewn from what must have once been a huge, black rock. He landed behind one of the big menhirs and peeked around. The joy of the flight vanished when he saw the figure fettered to the stake. The _sacrifice_. He'd watched Father do it many times – stab deep, cut straight and fast, remove the still beating heart and take a bite.

Draco pulled the dagger out of the sheath and squared his shoulders. He would prove his aptitude, no problem; he was a heartless Veela, a merciless predator. A heartless Veela, a merci…wait. That wasn't the toothless, demented and fragile kind of old Muggle they usually found on the altar. 

He concentrated. Alright, no old human this time, but… 

By Veela the almighty!

Draco pursed his lips, squinting against the giant pale face of the sun.

"Potter?"

~~v~~

This drug wasn’t that bad– strike that, it was better than anything he’d ever tried. One minute he’d been alone, the next Draco Malfoy stood before him, bare chested, in jeans and...with wings. Yeah, his delirious mind came up with some ace ideas. If he ever saw Maura again, he would ask what she’d put in that cake.

Malfoy’s half-pout and half gobsmacked expression made Harry giggle. 

"Malfoy, fancy seeing you here."

Harry’s gaze wandered over Malfoy’s body; the bare feet, the jeans accenting strong legs and a crotch that made Harry’s dry mouth water in a flash. He saw a faint trail of blond hair emerging from the dangerously low cut waistband, the V of his hipbones morphing into well-shaped abs, a strong chest only maimed by the long scar Harry had inflicted there himself.

"Wow. Reality couldn’t live up to my imagination."

Malfoy’s face was nearly like it had been when he’d last seen him– pointy chin and nose combined with sharp cheekbones, blond hair, but something was different. Ah, yes, the eyes. They gleamed like molten mercury. Wait, mercury _was_ a liquid. 

"God, I’m really stoned."

His eyes fastened of their own accord on Malfoy’s wings. Long, strong feathers and a row of downy covers were spread and shone white, sprinkled with an iridescent silver in the light. They looked...well...not like a bird’s wings but supernatural. And very powerful. 

"Malfoy, since when do you have wings? Ah, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m just destroying my own illusion. You look quite dashing. But… ehm, I’m sure I would have remembered a lesson about winged…people...in Care of Magical Creatures, wouldn’t I?"

~~v~~

"Correct, Potter. I'm only an illusion. A dream. Isn't it interesting what our dreams reveal about our most secret wishes and desires?"

A quick check if his feet and toenails were in presentable shape, a lazy flap of his wings, and Draco swept softly down on the altar. As Potter was so impressed by his wings, he didn't fold them in completely, but kept the half-spread position Father demanded for photographs of the royal family. If only that altar wasn't so rough and edgy under his bare soles. He suppressed a wince, as he took a step towards Potter.

"I've dreamed of this situation many times myself. You, lying at my feet, bound and bent…" 

With two small steps, Draco entered the space between Potter's legs and ran his foot over Potter's crotch. Potter lay very still. 

"Wandless, defenceless…" 

There was movement under Draco's sensitised sole.

"Oh, wandless, but not unarmed…"

~~v~~

"God, that’s good. Keep going. I haven’t had a porny dream in ages. This hallucination only gets better the longer it goes." Harry chuckled.

~~v~~

Draco marveled at the experience a bit longer, then took his time to take in the whole picture.

Potter's skin was of the olive tone Draco remembered from the Quidditch changing rooms, but had gained a slight red glow. Draco was glad he'd thought of a sun screen glamour in the morning before the festivities had started. The sun was not to be underestimated, not even on cloudy days – yet, though a bit sunburned, Potter was the most delicious sacrifice Draco had ever seen. 

His muscles bulged from his efforts to escape, and his jeans were tight enough to show strong thighs and what Draco knew must be a nice, thick hard-on. Only Potter's eyes lacked their old defiance. The vivid green was still the same, though nearly swallowed by the giant black hollows of his pupils. 

Potter was covered in sweat and his lips were bloodied from gnawing at the rough rope which bound him to the stake.

"Your poor mouth."

Draco bent down and licked the blood of Potter's lips. Potter caught his lower lip with his teeth and wouldn't let go. Then Potter's tongue returned the favour and slowly explored the outline of Draco's mouth. Draco pressed his lips to Potter's, which were rough and dry from a day in the wind, and met that lazy, curious tongue with his own.

Potter was right. This was getting better and better. He pressed harder and deepened the kiss, until Potter moaned and relaxed the grip of his teeth. Draco seized the chance and sat back on his heels.

~~v~~

Malfoy’s lips and his wicked wet tongue drove Harry crazy. He hauled unsuccessfully at the ropes, in an attempt to get nearer to this dream version of Draco Malfoy. But the straps held, and being forced into a submissive position only made him feel more aroused. Who would have thought that he had a kink for bondage? He should elaborate on this...later.

~~v~~

"It's only an illusion. So, go on. It's the perfect opportunity to live your most secret fantasies," Draco whispered, and spread his wings in a semi-circle until they built a soft shelter around them.

~~v~~

"Kiss me. And when I have kissed you enough, I want to get off with you. You’re too delicious half-naked as you are."

And, thank God, Malfoy kissed him– those lips and mouth were a force even without him throwing insults out at the world. Harry moaned, licked into him and sucked at his tongue without any shame. When they were both breathing hard and gasping for air Harry’s mind came back to his second demand. 

"Let me see your dick."

And of course he was scolded for requesting such a thing. "Even tied down to a stone you’re still feeling special, are you Potter?"

"Amazing, how spot on this illusion captures your character, Malfoy. You were the one who wanted to know about my desires. Go on and give it to me, you winged prat."

~~v~~

Winged prat. Maybe the ancestors had had a reason for the brutality of the rites. Draco understood their wish for blood better with each passing second. He dropped to his knees, one at each side of Potter's hips.

"You shouldn't forget whom you're talking to, _sacrifice_. I was tempted to spare you, and do you some favours because I pity you in your defenceless state. But you can never ask nicely, no, you always have to be the one in command."

Draco showed Potter the dagger, its polished metal glinting even in the dim light of the day. Potter's eyes widened. 

"You know, if I don't come home with a lot of blood on the blade, nobody will believe I really did what was necessary to accept the sacrifice."

~~v~~

"Ah, no need to be so rough or to shed blood. If you like it better, I could beg." Harry licked his lips to overcome the embarrassment of asking Draco Malfoy a favour, even if it was just an incarnation of him. "Please, Malfoy."

There. Done. Actually, it was soothing. Maybe he should beg more often during sex or pornish dreams or whatever was happening here.

~~v~~

Draco slid back on his knees and tugged at Potter's jeans. They were tight, but the waistband lifted enough not to touch the skin any more. _Stab deep, cut straight and fast._

With a fast movement, he cut Potter's crotch open. He slid the dagger under Potter's pants and lifted the cloth up with the blade. The pants fell apart and Potter's dick lay thick and bare for Draco to admire. It sprang up from a nest of black curls, of the same olive tone as his skin, with a purple head. 

Potter wanted him.

Draco smelled sweat and salt and musk, and hurried to push the dagger back into the holster and open his own fly in a more civilised way.

~~v~~

Seeing Malfoy cut open his trousers and pants was fucking hot. His cock bobbed under the onslaught of desire flooding Harry’s body. It got even worse when this winged version of the blond prat opened his fly and pulled a long, rosy and wonderful dick out.

He shoved jeans and pants down as far as they could go with him kneeling spread over Harry’s thighs – it must be uncomfortable though probably not more than being bound to a stake – and Malfoy’s cock was leaking pre-come while Harry watched him enraptured.

"Malfoy, look at you. You want me as much as I want you, so stop playing hard to get and have your wicked way with me. I assume being wicked should be easy for you."

~~v~~

"If you can't keep that bloodied mouth shut, I'll shut it for you."

Draco kissed Potter full on the mouth and lay down on him. The angle wasn't perfect, but he wasn't willing to give up the thrill of seeing Potter bound for better friction. He ground down into Potter's throbbing dick, pressing their lengths together. Potter's tongue dictated a forceful rhythm, and Draco fell into it, rubbing against Potter.

It was hard to keep that position, but the heat and the arousal and the surreality of the moment were worth it. Potter's hardened nipples tickled his chest, and he moved faster, rougher. 

Ouch. Lube, they needed lube. 

It was so _barbaric_ , but there was no other possibility. They needed lube, and spit was what they had. Draco rolled his eyes despite his arousal, got to his knees and held a hand out at Potter's mouth. 

"Spit! We need lube."

~~v~~

"Fuck, yes."

Harry collected as much as he could and spat into Draco’s palm. He didn’t find it gross. He was much too turned on to be fussy, and they would mingle more fluids anyway. 

Draco’s hand was gripping both their pricks and fisting them with abandon. It was everything Harry needed, everything he wanted– his hips raised instinctively and it didn’t even matter that his wrists hurt or his sacral bone would bruise under Malfoy’s weight. 

Even under subpar conditions like these, they worked perfectly together. The friction, the smooth skin of their touching cocks, the warm hand around him, the wings that fluttered a bit to keep them secure and provided them with fresh air.

"God, Malfoy, I’m going to come…" Harry’s voice trailed off into a moan.

~~v~~

Draco closed his fist tighter around their now slick cocks. He was already so far gone, he couldn't keep up a steady rhythm. Everything down there was a wet, hot, needy mess. Yes, Draco would accept the sacrifice any moment now. Potter bucked up into him with unsuspected force, and his lip had split open again after an encounter with Draco's teeth. _Take a bite._

Draco ground down for a last time. The heat, the smell of sweat, the taste of blood, Potter's writhing and moaning— 

His whole body twitched, and he was grateful for his strong wings which kept him upright and still sheltered them from the wind and potential nosy eyes. His release mingled with Potter's, and he slumped down. 

Everything hurt. This had all been nice and good, but this altar was too edgy for activities like this. Not only was his skin bruised, no, he was also grazed all over. He pressed his lips together. At least, Potter looked equally tortured as he hung there in his ropes with his eyes closed.

~~v~~

Harry was worn out and very tired. His arms were killing him, yet he knew he would fall asleep soon. He would love to cuddle this winged creature a bit in his post-orgasmic haze. But if he wasn’t mistaken, Draco Malfoy’s ability to cuddle was as likely as hell was freezing over. So, Harry just lay there with closed eyes and drifted away.

~~v~~

Potter really had a nerve. Draco would never be able to sleep without taking some painkiller potions and taking care of his wounds with healing charms and antiseptic draughts. But Potter…well, he probably was very exhausted from the day he'd spent in bonds, without getting anything to eat or drink.

Draco folded his wings which were stiff and a bit sore from carrying his weight for so long. Great, now Potter would never know if this had been hallucination or reality. Unless...

~~v~~

Harry opened his eyes, wished he hadn’t, and shut them again. He didn’t need eyes for a check-up of his body functions. His muscles and skin were aching as if he had worked out for hours unprotected in the sun. His wrists were stiff, as was his back. What had he done to himself? Wait. Was he lying on a stone? His eyes flew open once more and he took in his surroundings.

An altar. A pole. A rope.

"Oh my God."

It must have been a dream? A wonderful and hot hallucination. Based on a drugged apple pie. It couldn’t be real. His fingers brushed over a soft white feather and Harry’s mouth fell open.

Slowly, he sat up and looked around. Yes, it was all real. And then his gaze slid over his arm. Where red ink— _blood?_ —had dried and formed a message. 

It hadn't been an illusion then. Illusions didn't leave messages.

And even though he felt like shit, he couldn’t hide the smile blooming on his face. 

On his arm stood the best message ever. _Owl me. DM_

~~v~~

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Kudos and comments are love ~


End file.
